


Christmas Snippets!

by shannonplease



Category: Haikyuu!!, 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: Angst, Creampie, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:14:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28035999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shannonplease/pseuds/shannonplease
Summary: A compilation of My Hero Academia and Haikyuu! Christmas Snippets for my lovely bb Spacey.There's Smut, SFW, Angst, etc.
Relationships: Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead/Reader, Aone Takanobu/Reader, Ukai Keishin/Reader
Comments: 3
Kudos: 36





	1. Day 1 - Ukai; A White Christmas (NSFW)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SpaceyWarlock](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpaceyWarlock/gifts).



**12 Days of Snippets**

**Day 1: A White Christmas Eve**

  
  


This Holiday season was looking to be one of the worst yet; it was your first Christmas in Japan since you enrolled into the Teacher Exchange program and you felt lonelier than ever. You should have been home right now, hastily wrapping presents and sticking Father Christmas’ name on the labels, but you just couldn’t afford the trip. So here you were, at the convenience store, with a handful of snacks that should hopefully keep your homesickness at bay. You may not be able to afford a round-trip plane ticket but you sure as shit can afford curry buns and crisps.

“Oi, it’s Christmas Eve. Shouldn’t you be at home with your folks?” 

You look up from your pile of junk food to meet the piercing gaze of Keishin Ukai, the shopkeeper, and shrug your shoulders;

“Didn’t have the money to fly home.” - You hold out your credit card, debating on grabbing a pint of ice cream from the cooler in the back, when your eyes fall on the large poster behind the counter. The short ginger boy that you’ve become familiar with in the past several months from Year-1 Class-1 was on it, mid-leap to spike a volleyball, Shoyo Hinata. - “How about you? You’re the one open on Christmas Eve when you should be home.”

“Hah! My family doesn’t get together until tomorrow.” He takes your credit card with a condescending smirk, as though he outsmarted you somehow, swiping it and dropping it back into your awaiting hand.

“Lucky you.”

* * *

* * *

* * *

* * *

You honestly couldn’t explain how you ended up in this position.

“Fuck, you’re tight.”

Doggy position, to be precise.

“I’m sorry, do you want me to apologize for being fit!?”

You somehow managed to miss the huge exit sign looming over the automatic doors and ended up in Keishin’s studio above the store, bent over on your hands and knees, legs spread like an eager whore as he fucked you from behind. His rough calloused hands held your hips, pulling you back to meet the snap of his as he thrusted his thick cock inside of your greedy cunt. Your groceries, if you could call the numerous junk foods that, were discarded at the door underneath a pile of both yours and his clothes that you’d both managed to peel off one another in a flurry of tongues and heavy petting.

“Hell no! Fuck, you’re just making it hard to last long!” - He smacks your ass, the sting from his fingers making contact causes you to arch your back and cry out. - “Squeezing me like that with this soaking wet pussy of yours.”

He leans forward, slowing his movements in favor of reaching down to fondle your right breast. His long fingers roll your pert nipple between the pads of his index and thumb, squeezing the sensitive nub to elicit a breathy moan from you. He grinds his lower half against you, the head of his cock brushing against your cervix, with hope that he could delay the inevitable climax that lingered in his loins. He couldn’t help it; the way your pussy shudders around him is absolutely maddening.

“Come on, Ukai. I know you can fuck me harder than that!”

The hand that teased your nipple immediately snapped up to your throat, wrapping around it as best he could from the angle he was working with, pulling you up so that your back was against his chest and his mouth was against your ear;

“I swear to god, if you don’t start calling me Keishin, I won’t let you get off.” His low grunts in your ear along with the threatening tone only made you that more needy. The whine that rumbles in the back of your throat almost embarrassed you. _Almost._ Had it not been for the way his abdomen tensed against your ass from hearing the sound, that is.

“ _Keishin._ ” - You hear his breath hitch as you keen. - “Keishin, please, fuck me harder…”

The grip he has on your throat tightens. Your mouth lulls open, the tip of your tongue sitting on your lower lip.

“Fuck, baby…” His hand moves up to grasp your jaw, forcefully turning your head so he could cover your mouth with his. He ravages your mouth as his free hand reaches down the front of your body, his fingers seeking out your clitoris to massage it gently. You moan into the kiss, rocking your hips against his fingers the best you could despite the fact that his cock was still buried inside of you. His fingers slowly start to apply more pressure to your swollen bundle of nerves, giving your center the friction that it so desperately wanted. He pulls away from the kiss, both of you audibly panting as you buck into his frantic fingers.

“Nngh! Keishin, please! I’m gonna-”

He removes his hand from your jaw abruptly, opting to shift to the back of your head and push you back down onto your hands and knees.

“Not without me, you’re not!” - He holds onto your hip with one hand as he resumes to fuck you thoroughly from behind. His hips move erratically, the small pause he’d given himself proves useless as he returns to losing himself within your quivering cunt. - “Such a greedy and selfish whore you’re being. Trying to cum without me? Did I fucking say you could cum!?”  
  
His words and tone got harsher the closer he edged to his impending release. All you could do was moan and take it, the figurative coil inside of you wound tighter and tighter with every verbal jab he groaned out above you.

“Please let me cum! I can’t take it any longer, please!” You cried out, pathetically. His fingers dig into the supple flesh of your hip as he quickens his pace in and out of you.

“Cum then, dirty fuckin-” He chokes on his command as your cunt convulses around him, you throw your head forward into the bedding to muffle your wails of pleasure, his own orgasm hitting him immediately thereafter. His lower half shudders as he empties himself within you, tensing between each spurt of warm cum. You could feel his semen pumping within you- wait.

You **_shouldn’t_ ** be able to feel that. He was wearing a condom, wasn’t he?   
  
He pulls out with a sigh of content, lightly smacking your ass, before looking down at his cock and giving pause. He chokes as he stares down at the broken condom that was bunched up at the base of his cock;

“Well, shit.” - He looks up at you with a sheepish smile, “Merry Christmas?”


	2. Day 2 - Aone; Top of the Tree

**12 Days of Snippets**

**Day 2: Top of the Tree with Aone**

  
  


“Bug? You up?”   
  
There was a soft knock on your bedroom door, rousing you from your third depression-induced nap of the day. You turn your head and find your older brother huddled behind your slightly ajar door, a worried expression plastered across his normally apathetic face. The both of you weren’t exceptionally close, but he was always there when you needed him most.

“-time is it?” You grumble, reaching up to rub the exhaustion from your eyes.

“It’s four. You said your boyfriend was coming over at five, right?”

You narrow your eyes, trying to remember if that was true, before deciding to pick up your phone and check your recent texts from your hulking tree of a significant other. You gasp as you watch a new text pop up before your eyes; him indicating that he’d just left his house and was now on his way to you. You quickly tap out a reply and practically throw your phone onto the wireless charger before shooting out of bed.

  
  


“Just realizing that you’ve basically been in bed all day, right? You still need to shower. And brush-” You interrupt your brother’s mocking lecture by slamming the door closed in his face as you hurry around your room. You mentally tick off an internal to-do-list as you run about; changing out your sheets and making the bed with fresh ones from the linen closet, picking up any and all clothes you see and throwing them into the hamper, same for any trash you may possibly have lying around on your desk or nightstand.   
  
You zoom out into the hallway and straight into the bathroom, cutting your brother off and almost knocking him over in the process, heaving your tired and sweaty body under the freezing spray of the shower.

Meanwhile, as you scrub-a-dub-dub, your brother was making his way down to the basement to collect the last box of christmas decorations. He’d neglected it earlier on purpose, debating if it should be used, the big blue storage container marked  **Homemade Decorations.** He took out the bandana that he’d stashed in his back pocket and cleared off any dust that stuck to the plastic that had accumulated in the last year.

_ First Christmas without you, pops. _

Your brother blinks the tears out of his eyes, trying to tell himself it was due to the dust floating in the air, knowing full well that he was inches away from another breakdown. The weight of his grief was twenty times heavier than that old damned blue box, he noted as he heaved it up the stairs to the living room. He hid it in the closet, to hide it from you, intending to go through it later while you slept. You definitely wouldn’t be able to handle going through the box, but maybe just seeing the decorations on the tree would be tolerable.

You’d both lost your mother years ago, her memory didn’t linger as much as it used to and you were no longer fazed by mentions of her. But your father? He held the world in his hand. He was your rock, the center of your universe, the gravity that kept you from flying away. He was  _ home.  _ And then suddenly he wasn’t. It’s been months since his passing, so it steadily got easier after your brother took on the responsibilities of the house. You learned more life skills in the two months after your father’s passing than you have in your entire life. 

Christmas without him was going to be hard.

  
  


Five o’clock rolls around much faster than expected, the heavy but timid knock on the door signalling your overly-large boyfriend’s arrival.

You were still in your room getting ready, debating as to whether or not you should wear actual pants. You didn’t plan to leave the house, so leggings it was. You were tugging them on when you overheard your brother open the front door and greet your boyfriend, inviting him inside.

“Come on in, Aone. Make yourself comfortable. She’ll be out soon.  _ Somebody  _ took one nap too many.” God, you could hear his condescending glare through the wall.

“Shouldn’t you be in the kitchen, Master Chef?” - You shoot back as you step out of your room. Your brother turns, intending to counter, but stops abruptly when he looks you up and down with a furrowed brow. You ignore his judgemental gaze as you trot up to your fair-haired and overly-respectful boyfriend. - “Hi Taka!”

“Hi.” Takanobu wraps his arms around your shoulders, bringing you closer to rest your cheek against his sternum. You raise your arms to wrap them around his broad waist and splay your hands over his shoulder blades, your fingers digging into the dark grey cable knit jumper that he wore. You bury your nose in his chest and he smells of oakmoss and amber, his cologne reminiscent of mossy woods. The scent was familiar to you, but as far as you were aware, he’d never worn this cologne before.

“You smell nice.” You say as you look up at him, flattening the bottom of your chin along the middle of his chest.

“Thank you. My father gifted the cologne to me.” He blushes under your scrutiny, the tips of his ears turning a delightful rosey pink. His hold on your back loosens as he looks over to the kitchen, noticing your brother had scurried away to start officially preparing dinner. Your gaze follows his, prompting you to let go of Takanobu and step back to take his hand in yours;

“Taka and I will be in my room, just holler when dinner is ready!”

Takanobu’s eyes widen as you drag him to your room, your brother yelling something back in confirmation and letting you know that dinner would be ready in about 20 minutes. Taka drags his feet and ducks under the doorway to your bedroom.

Now, for clarity’s sake; you and Takanobu have been seeing one another for just over two months. He has only been inside of your bedroom twice before. And no, you have not gone “all the way” with him yet, nor were you rushing to do so. A few secret sneaky kisses here and there, yes. But his main way to express intimacy with you, which you were surprised to find out, were hugs. Whether it be him leaning down or picking you up, he enjoyed them both as long as you were enveloped in his arms.

But he had only recently discovered how enjoyable cuddling was.

You quickly crawl onto your bed, dragging him with you, and make yourself comfortable atop the freshly laundered bedding. You sprawl out in the middle of the bed and open your arms to him, a big smile on your face. His flushed cheeks redden even further as he tentatively climbs onto the bed and lies down next to you. His left arm snakes underneath your waist as his head finds purchase on your collarbone. You take his right hand and guide it to the spot just above your hip, leaving it there so you could pet the top of his head. His short cropped hair was soft to the touch, the ends curling ever so slightly as your fingers brush through them.

Yes, the big scary looking man likes to be coddled.   
  
And you  _ love  _ it.

You stay just like that, perfectly content and focusing on his steady breathing that fanned out over your chest, until he speaks up.

“This is an interesting sweater.” His fingers prod at the oversized knit sweater you wore. It was black with red and green stitching, white reindeers prancing along your chest. It was three sizes too big for you and there was an earthy musk embedded into the fabric.

“It’s my dad’s ugly Christmas sweater.” - You promised yourself, when you originally invited Takanobu to your house for a Christmas Eve’s-eve _(23rd)_ dinner with your brother, that you wouldn’t cry about your dad. But the unshed tears still burned in the corners of your eyes. - “Someone’s gotta wear it.” _Since Dad can’t._

“I like it. It’s cute on you.” You weren’t expecting him to compliment you so openly, so you sputter out a thank you before giving him a feather-light kiss to his forehead.

You both stayed like that for several more minutes, basking in the comfortable silence, until you heard your brother announce that dinner was ready.

  
  


Dinner was fantastic; the food was amazing, but what else did you expect from your four-star-rated michelin sous chef of a brother? The conversation didn't get stale like you expected and there were no awkward silences. All in all, a good experience that you’d like to do again.

But then your brother reminds you of the nearly naked Christmas tree that sat in the corner of your living room. You look at the far-too-green tree with a frown; decorating the tree was something you had always done as a family. You distinctly remember having a naked tree three years ago because your brother couldn’t make it home for Christmas, that’s how seriously your father took the decorating. You tried to convince your brother to not decorate the tree just for that reason alone, but he refused and claimed that  _ Dad would want us to go all out on the tree because he  _ **_wasn’t_ ** _ here.  _

Your movements are sluggish as you follow the young men into the living room. One large red storage bin sat where the coffee table typically was and there were several bundles of colored garland laid out over the side of the couch, silver and purple were the colors that your brother had picked out this year.

“Alright! Takanobu, I need to borrow your height.” You already knew that your brother intended to abuse Taka’s helpful nature during the process of decorating the tree with the various baubles and eccentric trinkets that your family had collected throughout the years. But then you look at Takanobu and notice that he has a genuine smile on his face as he lines the tree’s branches with the garland and novelty items. And none of them broke, thankfully. Takanobu had expressed to you beforehand that he was scared of somehow messing up the tree or breaking decorations due to his hulking stature or him not knowing his own strength.

The feeling is bittersweet as the top of the tree catches your attention; it wasn’t cut off like you expected it to be. Your brother told you he would cut the tip off since you asked to ignore the tree topper this year.

_ Putting the star on the tree was your dad’s job.  _

Every year without fail, except for the year that the tree stayed bare, your father would hike either you or your brother up to plop the star on top of the tree. Even in his later years he continued the tradition, albeit he invested in a step ladder a couple years ago, but he would still hold onto you and your brother as though he were the one doing the work.

You find yourself retreating to the kitchen;

“Hey, where are the scissors?” You ask your brother from behind the counter as you search through various drawers. He frowns;

“Uh, in the office. Why do you need them?”

“You forgot to cut the top of the tree off.”

The silence that followed your statement was painful, leading you and your brother to cringe. Takanobu, being none the wiser, looks between the both of you;

“My family puts an angel on our tree, do you not have one of those?”

You look down, holding back the biting statement that lingers at the back of your mouth.  _ He doesn’t know, chill out. _

“We do, but…” - Your brother starts, garnering your attention and leading you to look up. He’s making his way over to the closet, opening the old door with a prominent squeak. He bends down, - “Our father had a tradition of putting the topper on the tree with us. And she doesn’t want to do it this year.”

Takanobu looks at you with soft eyes;

“Why not?”

You ball your fists and sniffle;

“Dad isn’t here to pick me up.” - You reach up and wipe your eyes with the sleeve of your father’s ugly Christmas sweater. You sniffle again, but pause when you realize that the sweater still smells like him, bringing even more tears to your eyes. - “So I don’t want to do it.”

Takanobu, being the silent giant he is, quickly shuffles into the kitchen to whisk you into his arms. Instead of over your shoulders, his hands duck under your armpits to go behind you. One hand hooks under your behind as the other braces your back for when he lifts you up. Your hands instinctively wrap around his neck, your face seeking out his shoulder, your knees on either side of his hips. He cradles you in his hold, letting your tears soak into his jumper, for a few minutes. Your brother long since sat down, waiting patiently with the old twisted iron star in his hands. Your father made it in his youth with his father and intended to pass it down as a family heirloom for Christmas. It was quite ugly but you loved it all the same.

“What if I help you put it on the tree?” Taka’s baritone voice so close to your ear surprises you, making you involuntarily shiver. You reach to your face to wipe your eyes and nose;

“What?”   
  


He leans back so that he is face to face with you, his dark brown eyes meeting yours with a newfound warmth.

“I pick you up.” - He leans forward, resting his forehead against yours. - “And you put the star on the tree.”

Your lower lip trembles as you hold back more tears. This man was truly too pure and you couldn’t help but love him that much m- Your breath hitches.

“Okay.”

Your brother watches as Takanobu maneuvers out of the kitchen and around the dining table, setting you back on the floor. You wipe your eyes one last time and give the old fabric a good sniff, momentarily pausing as you realize;

_ Takanobu’s cologne he wore today was nearly identical to your dad’s. _

You couldn’t help the smile that creeps across your lips as your brother hands you the star. Takanobu leans down behind you;

“Ready?” Taka’s voice is in your ear again, making you jump. His hands find your waist as you nod.

He picks you up with ease and holds you up toward the tree, giving you a second to properly set the star on the top. Then he brings you back down and right back into his arms, sneaking a small kiss to your temple with a smile.

_ Moving forward may not be as hard as you expected. _

  
  



	3. Day 3 - Aizawa "Never really cared for Christmas"

**12 Days of Snippets**

**Day 3: “Never really cared for Christmas”**

* * *

Shota Aizawa was not the **ideal partner.**

* * *

_You worked together once upon a time at some no-name company; bland too-small cubicles and a copy machine that never worked properly. His cubicle was across the room, nestled near the corner, whereas yours sat next to the wall of windows. What started as small talk next to a coffee machine that you never got the hang of using, in a cramped break room that felt smaller and smaller by the day, soon evolved into getting drinks at the hole-in-the-wall after work at the end of the week._

* * *

You loved him **regardless.**

* * *

  
  


_Your friends, of which you had very little anyways, questioned your standards when you finally shared Shota with them._

  * “He’s so plain-looking. And look at all of that hair, he must be pretty lazy.”



_They would throw the smallest of flaws that he had in your face. Flaws that you didn’t see- You saw a tall, dark and handsome man with hair that you loved to brush your fingers through._

  * “What about your sex life? You said he won’t try that one thing-"



_You would go to them in confidence just to vent out minor frustrations, and they would encourage you to break up with him. Small, normal things that any couple would have some issue with. Him cancelling a date, him being distant sometimes when he wanted space, your general everyday insecurities._

  * “He looks miserable all the time, are you even happy?”



_They would constantly tell you-_

  * “You deserve better.”



* * *

Eight years of comfortable **coexistence.**

* * *

  
  


_Shota was the one to proposition you into moving in together after two years of being in a relationship. He hadn’t made it out to be a grand romantic gesture or anything like that; just a simple statement over dinner regarding how much easier your lives would be if you lived in the same household._

  * “You’re always staying over at my apartment, or I’m crashing at yours. We might as well live together. It’d be cheaper anyway.”



_You were moved into a brand new apartment only three months later. It took some time to get fully comfortable sharing a living space with Shota, but it wasn’t long before you both settled into a routine. Shota would handle finances and car maintenance, whereas you would handle most other things in the house like groceries and date activity planning. You decorated the apartment, covering it in cool grey tones with little splashes of color everywhere, while Shota surprisingly went out of his way to coupon clip and find sales for said furniture items. In all honesty, you both had made a great team when it came down to it._

  
  


* * *

You just had to start having **expectations.**

* * *

  
  


_Shota had never said it aloud but you always knew he never intended to marry you. He would cringe during romantic scenes when you watched movies together, scoffing at the wedding epilogues that lingered behind the credits, looking to you briefly to make sure your eyes didn’t twinkle at the thought of that being you and him._

_You didn’t care; it was just a piece of paper._

_...But you did wish he would show his feelings more. He wasn’t one for sweet words or proclamations of love, things like that were too embarrassing, but rather he showed his appreciation for you with the little things in day to day life. The things that were easily overlooked; like listening to your ranting and raving despite the fact that he hated when his best friends unloaded their baggage on him. He was always respectful of your choices and encouraged you to do things that made you happy; like the array of hair colors that you’d tried out, or better yet when you shaved your head_ **_twice._ ** _Your first tattoo, which turned into two, and then to three. The numerous amounts of odd hobbies you’d picked up over the years; turning the spare bedroom into a library full of manga and comics, the many unfinished sewing projects that you had stuffed into a closet, or the stash of notebooks hidden in a box under your bed full of art you’d drawn from the night classes you’d attended._

* * *

  
  


“Shota, are you **happy?** ”

* * *

  
  


_You should have never fucking asked._

  * “What do you mean, am I happy?”



_He grew distant during the last year._

* * *

  
  


“I mean, are you **content?** ”

* * *

  
  


_Long gone were the comfortable silences you’d share. Your conversations went from somewhat lively to stale and repetitive._ -good morning, how was work, what do you want for dinner, goodnight.- _Absolutely ridiculous._

  * “Well… I guess now that you mention it, no. I’m not.”



_Shota’s touch started to feel foreign with how rarely you both participated in physical intimacy. You would go weeks without his touch and he would shrug you off when you tried to initiate something._

  
  


* * *

**“This just isn’t working anymore, is it?”**

* * *

  
  


_Shota didn’t even fight for you. He didn’t try. He just… simply accepted it._

  * “I’m not going to lie, I’ve thought about it for a little while.”



_You separated on the 1st of December; he was officially moved out of the apartment by the 23rd._

* * *

You were never too fond of **Christmas.**


End file.
